When I checked my email this morning, I was a bit surprised to find one from myself in my in-box.  Not that I haven't been known to send them occasionally to myself, usually reminding me to do something I don't want to do, but sometimes to share naughty self-pics and say "I love you."  This one had "New Shopping New Life!" in the subject line.  A little out of character, but intriguing nonetheless. 



Of course when I opened this one I discovered it wasn't from me at all.  (The Viagra ads?  Those really were from me, hint-hint.)  Not this time.  No, I don't have a secret Jekyll and Hyde double life even I don't know about.  It's true I am often told I was seen at such-and-such a trendy bar making out with some unbelievably hot guy or guys, or shopping at some chichi Newbury Street boutique with some unbelievably hot guy or guys, or working on my glutes at some exclusive gym with some unbelievably hot guy or guys, and that I snubbed whoever it was saw me there — forcing me to conclude that either there's a Doppelganger on the loose, or I'm not who I think I am, but someone much richer and more glamorous with bigger glutes and some very hot fuckbuddies.

Alas, no.  Nothing so scintillating.  It's just spam.

When I opened this awful little email, with its pidgin English ("Well do is better than well say, just do it!") I felt raped — OK, well maybe not raped, but like I'd picked up some sketchy character in the Fens who stole my little black book and cold-called all my friends pretending to be me.  And then I discover he's given me crabs to boot.

If this has ever happened to me you'll know what I'm talking about. It feels like you got an std from a toilet seat and passed it to twenty of your closest friends.  You feel like Passenger Zero.


They call this "spoofing," I guess.  Where evil spammers hijack your email address to try to hoodwink everyone on your contact list into clicking some toxic link.  But "spoof" is too kind a word for it.  A spoof is a gentle, light-hearted form of tribute, really, when it comes down to it.  There must be some clever neologism for it.  "Sprape"?  "Ram"?

I've decided to try and make the best of it.  See, spam can tear us apart, but it can also bring us together.  There are too many contacts on my list I haven't talked to in too long, so I've sent out an email to them all apologizing for the spam and inviting them to give me a shout so we can catch up.  Maybe even do some shopping. 

Just don't click the link.